


everyone falls in love sometimes

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-21
Updated: 2011-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 23:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nino will tell you that he doesn't believe in love at first sight, except that he does it all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everyone falls in love sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [arashi_on fundraiser](http://community.livejournal.com/arashi_on/3747412.html). the request was for ohmiya inspired by the [lyrics](http://www.jpopasia.com/lyrics/6215/miliyah-kato/kono-mama-zutto-asa-made.html) to [Kono Mama Zutto Asa Made](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsn81ajLh10) by Miliyah Kato.

Nino will tell you he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. And he doesn’t, really, except that he does it all the time. That’s really the only reason he keeps agreeing to come to this club with Jun.

Because he likes to watch people, and there are so many people to watch here. He falls in love with what he sees from a distance—the way she sings along with the music, the way he hooks his thumbs in his pockets; the little curl that falls down over that girl’s forehead, or that guy’s hideously cute sweater. 

Nino falls in love with all kinds of people, all the time. Sometimes they see him looking and come over to talk to him, sometimes they take him home, but the reason Nino doesn’t really believe in this love stuff: none of them ever last more than a day or two. It’s always just passion that burns out quickly, but Nino doesn’t mind. It’s easier like this, to just take what they’re willing to give and let them go. He doesn’t want to hear the refusal when he asks them to stay.

*

It’s a usual night at the club, about 1am now, and Jun is long gone—melted into the crowd almost as soon as they got here, and Nino’s only seen glimpses of him since. Nino is at his usual place by the bar, sitting sideways on his barstool and facing the crowd. He’s already fallen in love a dozen times tonight, and been hit on by another dozen people who he has no interest in, and he’s thinking maybe he’ll turn in early for once.

But then he sees him, someone new. Across the room, dancing with someone Nino doesn’t bother to focus on. He’s small, this guy, maybe even shorter than Nino, and dark skinned, with short hair dyed a coppery-brown and spiked up half-heartedly. It’s almost instantaneous, the way Nino falls for this guy. Maybe it’s the way he moves—smooth, easy, like he’s not even thinking about it—or the faraway look on his face. But there’s something, something about this guy, and Nino can’t leave now.

Nino watches the guy for another hour. The stranger keeps dancing, almost the whole time, moving from one partner to another whenever he feels like it, regardless of gender or whether or not the song is actually over. Still, he touches and moves with every single one of them like they are the only other thing that exists in that moment. And Nino wants that, too. He wants to be the center of this man’s attention, if only for an instant.

Nino is vaguely aware of Jun coming and going nearby, saying something about going home—by himself or with somebody, Nino’s not sure, doesn’t care right now. He’s waiting for the guy to look at him. Come on, just once, _just look over here_ …

Then he does. Nino is sure the guy sees him, somehow, through the gloom and the laser lights, because he does a kind of slow motion double-take. Their gaze holds and, after a moment, the guy breaks smoothly away from whoever he’s dancing with and starts walking towards the bar, towards Nino, never looking away.

The stranger stops in front of Nino’s barstool, and Nino realizes he has a big, stupid grin on his face. Interestingly enough, so does the guy, like they’re old friends, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. It’s a little disconcerting, and Nino tries to play it cool, mouthing a “hi” that can’t be heard over the music. The other man moves his lips in a “hi” as well, then steps closer, leans in, putting one hand on the low back of Nino’s seat, by his hip, and the other on the bar behind him, leaning in still, until they are cheek to cheek.

“Hi,” the man says again, right next to Nino’s ear, “I’m Ohno.”

“Nino,” Nino answers immediately. Ohno smells like sweat, but not in a bad way, and Nino can feel it where they touch, too, the thin sheen of perspiration. Normally this would be kind of gross, really, but there’s just _something_ about Ohno, already, so Nino tolerates it.

“How old are you?” is Ohno’s next question, and Nino laughs because he’s used to that question, letting his hands come to rest at Ohno’s waist.

“I’ll be seventeen next month,” he lies, to see if Ohno buys it, to see what he’ll do. Nino feels a little frown against his cheek.

“Um,” Ohno begins, in a voice that lets Nino know Ohno was suspicious that this might be the case but was really hoping Nino was legal. Nino laughs again—he feels giddy, a little reckless, enamored.

“I’m twenty-four!” Nino whines, giving Ohno’s side a pinch. “What, are you secretly a middle-aged salaryman in disguise?”

“Twenty-seven,” Ohno mumbles. “I work at a convenience store.”

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Nino says. “You from out of town?”

“Don’t get out much,” Ohno replies, and Nino has a hard time believing it of someone who dances like all he ever does is go to clubs. “Didn’t you have a friend with you?” Ohno asks, changing the subject.

“He went home,” Nino answers, pressing himself a little further into Ohno’s space and feeling absolutely no compunctions about sliding his hands from Ohno’s waist and down into the back pockets of his loose jeans. “Thinking about taking _you_ home,” Nino adds with a little squeeze.

He hears Ohno suck in a sharp breath, and the older man moves one hand to Nino’s arm. The pad of Ohno’s thumb smoothes over Nino’s skin, and for the briefest instant, Nino feels Ohno’s lips against his cheek, butterfly light, before Ohno is speaking in his ear again.

“Dance with me, first. Come dance with me.”

And Nino has no problems with that either—he just nods and lets Ohno pull him out to the dance floor.

They stay like they are for a while, with Nino’s hands in Ohno’s pockets and Ohno’s hands on Nino’s arms, just watching each other, as Nino follows the languid roll of Ohno’s hips. He’s falling a little more in love with every moment, with Ohno’s lopsided smile, the lean line from his shoulders to his hips, and how he moves _with_ Nino instead of imposing his own rhythm.

Nino loses track of the time, as they dance. The bass is pounding through him, or maybe it’s just his heart and the way Ohno touches him. It’s just so _easy_. They sway and roll together, but they get silly, too—Ohno takes Nino’s hand and twirls him, laughing when Nino twirls him in return. They bump hips, Ohno catches Nino around the waist for an exaggerated dip, they do a little tango. At first, Nino had been afraid that Ohno would leave, would slip away from him like he had done all his other partners, but he never does. Nino wonders if he can keep Ohno all night, and maybe the next day, too. Maybe even longer.

The music never really stops, not in a club like this, but there comes a moment when the tempo is almost slow. Nino has his back to Ohno’s chest, his hands over Ohno’s on his waist, just swaying together. Ohno’s lips are close to Nino’s ear again, and he says: “Now you can take me home.”

Nino turns his head, realizes with a flash of heat how close his lips are to Ohno’s, like this, but resists temptation. He turns the rest of the way around to speak in Ohno’s ear.

“Whose home?”

Ohno thinks about this for a moment, his hands wandering thoughtfully over Nino’s back. 

“My roommates are out of town,” he says finally.

Nino laughs low in his throat, feels Ohno shiver against him.

“Well then,” Nino says, “let’s go.”

*

The taxi ride to Ohno’s apartment really ought to have been enough time for Nino’s giddiness to recede a little. The elevator ride up to the fifth floor, too, probably should have been at least a bit awkward, or standing behind Ohno while he tried to remember which of the keys on his key-ring opened his apartment door.

But none of it was. In the taxi, they held hands and talked about their roommates—Jun’s nail-polish collection and how he needs a whole shelf in the bathroom cabinet for it, Sho and Aiba off adventuring in Okinawa and how jealous Ohno is but he couldn’t afford to go. In the elevator, they acted exaggeratedly like young lovers, talked in syrupy voices about what to make for breakfast and “you’re so cute!”, “no _you’re_ so cute!” and laughing the whole time. At the door, Nino stood close behind Ohno, resting his chin on his shoulder and feeling an almost sleepy contentment settling over him.

Even so, he can still feel the pulse thudding under his skin, like the music from the club got into his veins somehow, like a countdown of heartbeats, ticking away the seconds until morning when Nino knows this will most likely end. He doesn’t want to waste any time with Ohno. As soon as the door is open, Nino crowds them inside, getting his shoes off and giving Ohno just enough time to do likewise before pressing the other man back against the nearest wall.

“Guess you’re not the type that likes to talk first,” Ohno chuckles, his voice quiet even though there’s no one else in the apartment.

“Did you have something you wanted to talk about?” Nino asks, letting his lips brush over Ohno’s as he speaks, feeling Ohno’s trembling breaths.

“No,” Ohno says on a sigh, and then he closes his eyes and presses forward to capture Nino’s mouth.

Somehow they make it from the front door to the bedroom, though this involves a lot of stumbling into walls and tripping over a surprising amount of crap that is strewn across the floor. Nino would comment on it, except that Ohno’s got his hands up Nino’s shirt now and it’s really very distracting. Only when they finally fall into Ohno’s bed is there a pause. Ohno is a solid weight on top of Nino, they are both breathing hard, most of their clothes gone already. Ohno pulls back, dropping a few kisses along Nino’s jaw, then catches the younger man’s eyes.

“I, um,” he murmurs, a little breathless, a little worried, “I’ve never actually just taken someone home like this.”

Nino has his arms around Ohno’s neck, and runs his hands slowly through Ohno’s hair, making an even bigger mess of it.

“This is really a horrible time to be having second thoughts,” Nino chuckles, lifting his head to place a line of kisses across Ohno’s shoulder.

“I’m not,” Ohno says quickly. He presses his nose into the soft skin just behind Nino’s ear. “I’m not, I just…will you still be here when I wake up in the morning?”

For some reason, Nino feels his breath catch. Ohno looks up, a worried crease between his brows. But when their eyes meet again, Nino is smiling.

“I—yeah, if you want me to be.”

Ohno just nods—once, solemnly—and Nino pulls him in for another kiss.

*

Nino wakes to the sound of a cellphone ringing, loud and piercing. He groans and presses his face deeper into—not the pillow, he suddenly realizes, but a warm shoulder. He has just enough time to remember where he is and who he’s wrapped around before Ohno groans as well, then untangles himself from Nino and stumbles out of the bed towards his discarded jeans. Nino stays burrowed under the covers, listening as Ohno pulls his phone out of his pants pocket and answers. His voice is gravelly with sleep.

“’lo?...Uh-huh. Yeah.” A long pause. “Sounds great. Huh? No, I didn’t forget. I’m doing it now.”

And then he shuffles out of the room. There are faint sounds from somewhere else in the apartment—a clatter, rustle, tap—and the continued low hum of Ohno’s voice. Nino peeks out from under the covers to take a look around Ohno’s room. It’s small, most of the space being taken up by the bed, and the rest filled with a clutter that Nino can’t make sense of at first. Art supplies? Yes, he thinks, that’s what it is—sketchbooks and easels and little jars of paint, and…wait, is that a fishing rod?

That’s when Ohno returns, phone in hand and completely naked. Nino takes a moment to appreciate this before Ohno clambers back into bed. Nino reaches out with arms and legs to pull Ohno close again.

“Cold toes!” Ohno gasps when Nino’s feet find his, but instead of pushing Nino away, he just holds him tighter.

“You left and took all the warm,” Nino grumbles. “Who was that?”

“Aiba. Forgot to feed his fish.” Ohno sounds like he’s already most of the way back to unconsciousness. 

“Mm,” Nino sighs. Ohno is so, so warm, and the light behind the curtains doesn’t look that bright. He might as well go back to sleep.

That’s when _his_ cellphone rings.

He recognizes Jun’s ringtone and almost doesn’t answer. But knowing Jun, it will just keep ringing until Nino picks up. With a frustrated growl, he rolls over and flops one arm over the side of the bed, eventually finding his pants and fishing out his phone.

“What?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Jun answers dryly. “Nice of you to call me and let me know you hadn’t been abducted or killed and dumped in Tokyo Bay.”

“I don’t imagine I would’ve called you if I’d been killed and dumped in Tokyo Bay,” Nino grumbles. He feels warm hands at his waist, and then Ohno is pulling Nino tight against his chest. “I’m alive, so can I call you later? It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s eleven a.m.,” Jun informs him. “So did you get laid last night, or what?”

“Oh, yes,” Nino sighs contentedly, and now he can feel Ohno placing sleepy morning kisses against the back of his neck. “And I think I’m about to get a ‘good morning’ fuck, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“We’re renewing the lease at one, remember? You can bring your boy-toy if you want, but you better show up.”

“Fine,” Nino grumbles, then hangs up. He tosses the phone away and rolls over to catch a few of Ohno’s kisses with his mouth. They spend a few quiet minutes like this, exchanging kisses and slow breaths, their touches still exploratory and curious. Eventually Ohno breaks away and pulls back, pushing Nino’s hair out of his face, like he’s trying to get a good look at him.

“You’re still here,” Ohno mumbles happily.

“So are you,” Nino points out.

“It’s my house.”

Nino shrugs. “Some people still leave.”

Ohno’s expression softens thoughtfully, and his hands slow where they are sliding against Nino’s back. “You do this a lot, huh?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” Nino says with a rueful smile. He says it like he doesn’t care, but he wonders if that’s what will do it—if that’s what will make Ohno change his mind.

“No, it’s not—I just…” Ohno sighs, looking suddenly nervous, uncertain. “How long will you stay?”

Nino isn’t sure what Ohno’s really asking, fights down the little bubble of hope in his chest. “Until you tell me to go.”

“What if I don’t?” Ohno wants to know.

“Don’t?”

“Tell you to go.”

Nino blinks in surprise. Ohno looks completely sincere, even scared of what he just said, maybe. And it should be weird, or even a little scary, that someone he met less than twelve hours ago is saying this, and so seriously.

But it’s not, somehow. It’s part of that _something_ about Ohno that Nino’s been trying to figure out since last night, and something in Nino recognizes it, wants to hold on to it. He finds himself smiling again and settling into Ohno with a long, slow sigh.

“I guess I won’t go, then.”

“Good,” Ohno grins. Then his hands are moving down Nino’s back with a light scrape of fingernails. “Now, about that ‘good morning’ fuck…”

Nino lets out a happy little whimper, and thinks he might be late for the lease signing. 

He also thinks he really doesn’t care.


End file.
